


Cas Café

by relic_amaranth



Series: Cas, Cats, and Fluff [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cat Cafés, Cats, F/M, Fluff, Gender-neutral Reader, M/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 17:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13346097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_amaranth/pseuds/relic_amaranth
Summary: Cas is good at running himself into the ground. Your solution to fix that is better than either of you know.





	Cas Café

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t help myself. This is a follow-up to “Cat’s Cradle”. It references that story pretty heavily but I’m not exactly subtle with the recapping. Also, I should note: I wanted this to be vague, time-wise, but due to some references I make in this story I’d put this in season six-ish but a vaguely alternate one (I accidentally put the bunker in. Whoopsies) but that doesn’t mean much plot-wise. Enjoy the fluff. Cross-posted to Tumblr.

It doesn’t take long for Cas to start to bend under the weight of the world again. And this time he doesn’t seem to want to share that burden with you. Or, well, anything at all. The angel who used to check in on you for the sake of courtesy alone now seems to want nothing to do with you, and it’s not just in your head. It’s not hard to see– any time you catch him around and call his name he _immediately_ disappears. Twice now you’ve gotten the drop on him (basically walked up while he’s been deep in conversation with Dean) and the way his eyes go wide before he vanishes…

Something is most definitely up. Your own honest efforts to corner the renegade angel have met a dead end, so you decide to reach out for help. Sam has commented numerous times on Cas’s odd behavior but he hasn’t mentioned it lately. Suspicious.

“I don’t know. I really haven’t noticed anything,” Sam says but immediately starts picking up his books. After having _just_ settled in.

You narrow your eyes at him. Suspicious indeed. “Sam, it was just this last week that you commented on how weird Cas is being.”

“He’s Cas. He’s always weird.”

“Not like this and you know it!”

Sam picks up the books and strides out of the library on the stilts he calls legs. “This sounds like something you should talk to Cas about.”

“I’ve tried!” you huff as you follow, trying to keep up. “Whatever I did to him has him completely avoiding me; I literally _can’t_ say a word to h–”

You crash into Sam’s back as he comes to a stop. When you right yourself Sam is in his room, his books in one arm and his free hand on the door. He looks at you with some measure of regret. “Look,” he says, “–I have an _idea_ of what might be up with Cas and if I’m right I really, _really_ don’t want to be involved. And shouldn’t, either– it’s not my business.”

“Sam!”

“You’ll figure it out,” he says and shuts the door.

Winchester #2: Useless. And infuriating.

Winchester #1: …

You step in the kitchen just as Dean takes the biggest bite you’ve ever seen. He basically takes half the sandwich into his mouth. At any other time you might be amused (definitely impressed) but right now you just roll your eyes, cross your arms, and wait for him to be done.

He frowns, somehow, as he chews, and he’s only got a little bit down his gullet when he speaks around the remainder. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Do you know why Cas is avoiding me?”

Dean freezes mid-chew. Okay, so maybe that was a little too abrupt. But when Dean glances at the nearest exit, you lose a lot of sympathy. “Don’t even _think_ about it, Winchester.”

Dean rolls his eyes and swallows the last of his bite. “Nope. Nuh uh. No way. I am _not_ getting involved with this.”

So much for friendship. Seriously, what is going _on_? “Can you please just tell me what terrible thing I did that is making Cas run away from me?”

Dean looks at you like he doesn’t know what to do with you. “Don’t be dramatic; he’s not running away from you.”

Your blood is boiling. “When I walk into the same room as him he _literally_ cannot vacate it fast enough. For a guy who can be across the world in an instant I’m pretty sure that says everything it needs to!”

You don’t mean to shout but you’re just now realizing how much this is really getting to you. Judging by Dean’s expression, so is he. He sighs heavily and takes a much smaller bite. “When did it start happening?”

“Um…” You have to think. “The last time he talked to me was that gas station we stopped at after that ghost hunt just outside of Durham.”

“Hm.” Dean lifts his eyebrows. “Maybe it has to do with whatever you and Cas were doing while Sam and I waited for the meds to kick in.”

You raise a single eyebrow. “Uh, I was using a lint roller to get rid of all the cat hair so you wouldn’t bitch at us.”

Dean smirks. “Is _that_ what you’re calling it?”

“Being a respectful friend? Yeah, I guess.” Even an absentee god knew _someone_ around here had to be one.

“Uh huh.” Dean rolls his eyes again and if he does it one more time you’re going to pluck them out. “But seriously, after Cas snapped you both clean, what happened?”

Your mouth drops open on reflex but you find you have nothing to say as your brain recalibrates. Cas _could_ have had you both spotless in an instant. Why… “Huh.” Why hadn’t he? “I never thought of asking him to do that. Slipped my mind, I guess.”

Dean looks nigh-bewildered. “Wait…so ‘getting the cat hair off’ wasn’t a euphemism?”

“What the hell kind of euphemism would that b–” Wait; now that your mind is trying to parse that one out all you want is for it to stop. Now. Please. “No!”

Dean shrugs. “Maybe that’s the problem– Cas wanted a euphemism.”

 _That_ hits you like a two-by-four to the face. “That’s not possible. Cas doesn’t like me like that. He doesn’t like me at all right now.”

“What exactly makes you say that?” Dean asks, dusting his hands of crumbs.

You stare at him. “Do I seriously have to go into everything? Cas _hates_ me, Dean.”

“I don’t hate you.”

You jump out of your skin and whirl to find Cas standing behind you. You hold your hand over your too-quickly-beating heart. “Cas,” you say and take a deep breath. And now that he’s looking at you like that, like nothing is wrong, like nothing has been wrong, irritation is slowly pushing concern out of the way. Dean bolts, of course, but you let him. “Long time no see.”

He tilts his head. “I saw you earlier this week.”

“Ah. You left so fast I wasn’t sure you had.” His exit had left you reeling. Literally; you had stumbled back from the force of it. “Cas, why have you been avoiding me?”

His eyes widen for a moment and he looks askance. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“You took off so fast last time I think you smacked me with your wing.”

He blinks and has the decency to look a little ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not the point.” You put your hand on his shoulder but he goes completely stiff, so you take it back. “I just…can you tell me what I did so I can apologize and we can go back to normal?”

“You did nothing wrong. I…” He sighs and slumps. “I have been preoccupied. You are perceptive and I have not wanted to talk about it. I apologize for my behavior; looking back, it is quite rude.”

Yeah, you’re not going to argue with that. But… “You don’t ever have to talk if you don’t want to. If I ask it’s because I care and I want you to know there’s an ear open if ever you need it. But you’re not– you’re never obligated to talk.”

“Sometimes I would like to,” he says, almost forlorn. “I just don’t know…how.”

That is a conundrum. “Well, don’t stress about it,” you say. “If the words come then let them. And if they don’t, well, they will eventually. When they’re ready.”

Cas takes in your babbling like it’s sage wisdom or some shit. Much more gratifying: he smiles. It’s small and hard to describe, but it’s warmer than anything you’ve ever seen from him.

And then it’s gone, and he casts his tired eyes upward. “I need to go.” He steps back and looks at you again. “I do feel bad for my behavior, though. If I can make it up to you, please let me know.”

You smile. “I’ll think about it.”

 

And think about it you do. It’s two weeks later when you have a plan and the free time to make it happen. You’ve just finished up a hunt that you worked solo and you haven’t found anything pressing that other hunters can’t get to faster. You’re sitting in your motel room, counting out the freshly exchanged money you’re going to need and buzzing with excitement. ‘Operation: Cheer Up Cas’ is about to get underway.

You stack your meager funds into a neat pile and clear your throat. “Oh Castiel who art in heaven, who hopefully has some free time to come visit me…”

Wings flutter and you beam a smile at the angel standing stoically by the broken TV. “Are you all right?”

“I’m great!” You unfold yourself from your seat on the bed and go to stand in front of him. Though you feel you already know from his slouched posture, perpetual frowning, and his tired, dead-inside blank gaze, you still feel it’s polite to ask, “How are you, Cas?”

“I–me? I am well, thank you,” he says quickly and stands straighter. Yup– bullshit. Perfect.

“Well I did call you for a reason,” you say. “Do you remember when we cleared the air a few weeks ago and you said you felt bad for ignoring me? And that you’d make it up to me?”

“Yes,” Cas says with all the caution of a being that has spent far too much time around Dean Winchester.

“Great! Do you have some free time now?”

He blinks.

You grin. “Well, you’ve avoided me so much that I figure the best way to rectify this situation is for us to spend some time together. We’ll need at least an hour. Do you think you can swing it?”

He considers it. Or maybe he’s trying to find a way out of it. Either way, he’s polite enough to say, “Yes, barring an emergency, I’d– I can spend some time with you today.”

“Awesome!” You pull up a map on your phone. “We’re going to be traveling and I need you to– you can speak any language, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” You put the phone screen up to his face and point at the shop you want to go to. “We’re going here.”

Cas raises his eyebrows. “This is…are you sure?”

“Yup!” You wave your stack of bills. “Shall we?”

 

The café is quiet. There are a couple of Filipino tourists off in a corner, so you’re in good company. Cas is sitting stiffly across from you and you’re currently trying to entice some of the resident cats your way with some (expensive) treats but they are, of course, playing coy.

“A…cat…café…” Cas says, apparently still wrapping his head around the idea.

“I know. Isn’t Japan great?” You turn back to the table. The cats can probably sense your desperation, so you figure you’ll try to play it cool for a little bit. “I think it technically started in Taiwan or something and there are some in the US, but Japan really embraced it and ever since a friend told me about this one I’ve wanted to come visit.” Ah hah; a little munchkin-looking guy is examining your leg. You reach down with a treat in hand and as he gobbles it up you start scratching behind his ears.

Cas suddenly says your name with some urgency. When you look up at him you accidentally drop a few treats, much to the delight of the munchkin and a couple of his friends.

It’s worth it. Cas is even more rigid as a long white cat stands on his lap and rubs its face against his chin. You scramble for your phone and snap a few pictures. Cas narrows his eyes at you and you laugh and put the phone down. For now. “Do you remember the cat at the gas station?”

He nods. “Just–” you start to explain and then decide, well, what the hell. You move your chair to sit next to him and you take his hand and help him pet the cat, starting at the ears and going down its back in a long, gentle stroke until you hit the tail. You do it again and then let go. As Cas continues on his own the white cat purrs and shuts its eyes in kitty bliss. Cas smiles, once more letting go of the inflexible line of his shoulders, the severity of his eyes.

“She likes it,” he murmurs.

You smile and occupy yourself with a black and brown cat that is coming up to you. You keep absent track of time as the white cat settles down in Cas’s lap for a nap and a black cat hops up on a cat tree next to Cas to take the angel’s unoccupied hand.

Your hour is winding down when the cats have had their fill of you and Cas looks as contented as they do, leaning back in his chair with a constant smile. He pets the white cat in his lap with a little more vigor, rousing her gently enough that she yawns and stretches. Your eyes widen at the sight of claws, but Cas doesn’t even flinch.

When the cat jumps off you laugh at Cas’s lap covered in white fur. He smiles down at it and then at you, and in the face of such pure _joy_ , on _Cas_ , you can only vaguely remember what you were just laughing about.

“Thank you,” he says. “You didn’t do this for me to make amends. You did it because you knew it would make me happy.”

You shrug. Busted, but you don’t feel too concerned about it. “I’ve wanted to do it for a long time too. But yeah. I wanted to see you smile.”

“Why?”

“You carry too much. We may not get the inner workings of heaven, but we can still help.”

He tilts his head and studies you until you squirm. “And by ‘we’ you mean…”

You look away. “Sam and Dean care too.”

“Not in the same way.” His hand sets on yours and you remember that car ride, weeks ago but still fresh in your head. The utter contentment of Cas being so close, and then the following weeks of discontent as he couldn’t be farther away. You feel a little fear creep in– is he going to disappear on you again? Heedless of your worries, he leans in closer. “This is…different, isn’t it?”

You swallow. You’re not going to be responsible for pushing him away, not again. “I just like to see you happy, Cas.”

“Hm.” He stays right where he is. “I can think of something that would make me very happy. Something I have wanted to do for some time now. Would you indulge me?”

You look up. “Sure, Cas. What do you–”

He’s kissing you. He’s stiff and unskilled, holding himself at an awkward angle and going no farther than lip-to-lip contact, but it stuns you to breathlessness.

 

Your hour in the café is very firmly up and you’re walking down a sidewalk with Cas, who seems content to soak in the noise, smells, and sun. In fact, he’s entirely _too_ pleased with himself in your opinion. Cas is an inexperienced angel, sexless in his true form, and _he’s_ leading the charge?

Oh fuck no.

You scope out your surroundings and notice a pattern that will serve you well. When the crowds start to die down and no one is looking, you yank Cas into a tiny alley and push him against the wall. You kiss him deeply and for a moment he melts into it. Then he pushes you back against the opposite wall, lips still locked with yours, pushing into you even deeper, and it’s all you can do to keep control of the kiss _you_ initiated. When you pull apart you’re both panting. “Where did you lean to do _that_?” you ask.

“Dean’s videos are very educational,” he says matter-of-factly.

You’re caught in the space between horror and hilarity. You end up laughing and leaning your forehead on Cas’s shoulder, where you promptly inhale a strand of cat hair and cough on it. “Speak–ing of D– Dean,” you say and hold a strand up to Cas’s eyes. You let go and it floats away. “I think the lint rollers might take a little bit too much time. “Mind angel-ing us clean?”

Cas flushes and raises his hand, but you take it in yours momentarily. “Why didn’t you do that before, Cas?”

“I knew divesting us of the dander would take time. Time that I would get to spend with you,” he said. “It’s…one of the reasons I actually avoided you. I wanted to spend so much more time with you and didn’t know how to say it, how to tell you without you asking why, because I didn’t know how to put it into words. All I knew was that I wanted to be with you, to spend as many moments as I have with you.”

You smile again. “You know…” You grab the lapels of his jacket and his eyes follow your hands. “If you want to spend time together, there are _way_ more fun things we can do than pick cat hair off our clothes.”

Blue eyes flick up to meet yours and the corner of his mouth quirks mischievously. When you pull him back in he falls and slots into place so perfectly it feels like this is always where he’s been meant to be.

 

‘Operation: Cheer Up Cas’ is a resounding success if ever you’ve seen one.

“Ah- _CHOO_! God _damn it_ (y/n) whatever happened to ‘being a respectful friend’?!”

…Hopefully ‘Operation: Grovel Before Dean’ goes well too.


End file.
